Chatting With the Fam..

So I'm realizing that with cultural adjustment comes a seeming lack of things to journal about. It's not that we've stopped experiencing so much; it's just that the things that used to seem so noteworthy are commonplace now. Wehn the shift from feeling like a hesitant observer to an everday participant begins, I guess that's bound to happen. I'm having to remind myself more and more to try to soak in everything that's going on around me, before I get home and suddenly realize again everything about Bali that I wouldn't have once called "normal". Because then it will be too late!

I think it's more of the little stuff I'm learning from now. I have a steadily improving ability as far as listening to/participating in conversations goes, so since looking around at the offering-laden sidewalks and north-south, east-west oriented compounds doesn't incite as much curiosity as it used to, I've been trying to take advantage of all the opportunities I have to bercakap-cakap (chat) with my family.

I'm even starting to be able to understand my littlest brother, Errlanga, more and more. He's the biggest goofball of the kids (they always refer to him as "nakal", or naughty), and he loves to try to talk to me in Indonesian. I think he knew before that I would never understand him, but now that my language is getting a little better, he's trying his best to tell me things. Yesterday, I understood two story/joke things he told me! One about a man who went to a restaurant and was accidentally served a stronger man's grilled chicken and had part of his butt bitten off as a result, and one about three Draculas in a blood-collecting competition. The winner was the one who ran into a phone pole, busted his head open, and collected his own blood. As un-funny as they actually were, I enjoyed them just because the meaning eventually got across..

It's amazing what simple things can pass the time with people who are so curious about American culture. Today we spent quite a while comparing rupiahs and dollars. I got out some dimes and quarters and a dolalr bill and tried (unsuccessfullly) to tell them what all the pictures were. Errlanga thought it was so funny that the border around the dollar is as thick as it is--something I've definitely never thought to consider. He's right, though. It kinda looks like a frame that could just be cut off. Maybe that's only cause I'm used to looking at rupiahs now..
It's like getting a new pair of eyes, or maybe just some different color contact lenses, myself--being the vessel through which my family sees things for the first time. I've incited similar reactions of wonder with things like my mechanical pencil, which they thought was so high-tech (although I'm sure there must be mechanical pencils somewhere on this island), and with my Target men's underwear section, white, V-neck t-shirts that my Ibu so intently admires. I feel like I know the simplicity of the things in a new way now-- my pencils etching with a little extra novelty, my t-shirts begging a little more of a luxurious feel. I think maybe this little embellishment-through-sharing technique could be more enlightening if applied to something more significant than a pencil or a t-shirt, but, then again, maybe it's those things I never think about that could use the reevaulating the most.

I also have to say the experience I'm having is definitely family-specific. I've learned that there's a large financial disparity between mine and some of the other students' homestays. I think I hear at least once a day, "tidak punya uang" (we don't have money), and the fact that my Bapak is still (going on 4 years now) jobless is a constant topic of conversation. I wouldn't trade my family for anything because our personalities, somehow, seem to match really well, but the situation does make it harder at times to separate which of their opinions are formed by culture and which are formed by their personal situation.

My Bapak loves to ask these questions that leave me without an answer-- things that are either irrelevant, unexpected, or in need of clarification beyond my Indonesian skills. I tried to explain the concept of babysitting and all he wants to know is, "Where do the kids' parents work?" Well..it just depends. I tried to explain the concept of believing that someone can be born gay and all he wants to know is, "How can the 'homos' go back to being 'normal'?" Well...I don't think that's really an option. I tried to explain eating a sandwich and all he wants to know is, "Do you put the meat in a blender before you put it on the sandwich?" Hmmm no. That would be disgusting. I tried to explain that some students might never live at home again after they go to college, while others might live with thier parents during the summers and/or after they graduate, and all he wants to know is, "Who pays?" Well...that's not really what I was talking about. I tried to explain Halloween and all he wants to know is, "Why trouble when for devil?" First of all, we're missing some key words there. Second of all, the devil isn't actually involved..

It's a constant struggle to find answers satisfying enough for his curiosity. I'm glad he keeps asking though...because it's giving me quite an entertaining insight into some of the disparities between the Balinese and American mindsets. It's also a continual vocab lesson, which I could always use more of.

Another thing I've been reminded of through all of Bapak's questioning is how I hope my homestay family is learning as much from me as I am from them. It's really easy to focus on what I'm getting out out of each day, and each conversation, since I am, after all, the one being "culturally immersed". But, I've realized that where I come from is just as, if not more so, unkown to my family as their ways were to me on the day I moved in. Since then I've been flooded with information about Balinese beliefs in regards to everything from religion to arts to child-rearing from more informants than I could count...but it's my own responsibility to make this a beneficial opportunity for the people that have somehow managed to make me feel welcome-- in this compound where the structures' names and layout are so full of meaning I couldn't have even dreamed them up 6 weeks ago (and I still couldn't really tell you everything..)

I love seeing that my Ibu is picking up little bits of English. Last night she said, out of the blue, "Soapy go to Ubud. Right?" I said, "yay! that's right," choosing not to get into the difference between go and goes, and she got such a satisfied look on her face, congratulating herself with "Ibu pintar (smart)!" We can actually sit and have a conversation now, just the two of us. Sometimes it doesn't go far, but it never lacks a feeling of understanding somewhere beneath the repetitions and squinting our brows and looking up and to the right. We have to leave for our ISPs in less than 2 weeks, and I can already tell it's going to be really sad. In the mean time though, I'm just trying to focus on being right here. I'm also crossing my fingers that the rainy season doesn't actually come..

I keep finding my mind drifting off before sleep to imagine my first day at home, when I wake up and attempt to go eat my breakfast outside only to find that A) there's nowhere to sit and nothing to look at, and B) it's way too cold. C) There's none of this coffee that I think I'm getting addicted to (depsite the fact that I have to pick out the ants). and D) There's no Bapak to say "pagi" and try to confuse me by asking me who I'm eating. I really can think of positives too...those are the thoughts that come first though, so I just try to go to sleep without thinking about it. I guess I don't have to deal with that too, too soon.

When I can do that-- be focused, that is, I sometimes find that there are new things to find fascinating beneath the outer layers of some of those once-unfamiliar-but-now-everyday things. A simple example is mangosteen, this delicious, sweet fruit. It's all over Bali but not, to my knowledge, anywhere in the US. It's round and purple-ish with a cute green stem that looks like a ruffled top hat. The hat pops off and the outer layer cracks open when you squeeze it between your palms. Then you suck the flavor off of the white, crescent-shaped segments tucked inside. The novelty of the taste was experience enough at first, and I've gotten my fair share already...but, Errlanga taught me a whole new secret about mangosteens yesterday. There's a star on the bottom that actually tells how many segments are inside-- a 5-pronged star means 5 segments, a 7-pronged star means 7. Who knew that a fruit's skin could be so telling? Or that there was more to know about a mangosteen than what I'd already discovered about the look and taste?

Saturday was a big day as far as rituals go. It was Kuningan, which marks the end of the 10 days of Galungan, AND the odalan (bday) for Pura Samuan Tiga, the big temple here in Bedulu. I went to the temple with my sister and Ibu (and most of the town) to pray in the afternoon, and then Bapak took us all back later to watch the Topeng dancers perform. I think the temple odalans are like a sacred excuse for the town to hang out at the temple all day. It's as much a social event as it is religious. After giving your offering (some of which are super tall pyramids of fruits and cakes that the women carry on their heads) and being belssed with holy water (meaning you get to walk around the rest of the time with rice on your face), you can just hang out with friends and familly. It was a little socializing opportunity even for some of us...because even though we're only a group of 13, it takes about 20 seconds to look around the rows of kneeling, pakaian-adat clad locals and find what other Americans are there, tagging along with their keluargas.

The act of praying at the festivals doesn't even seem that strange anyomore. Granted, I don't know what I'm supposed to be thinking when I'm carrying out the motions, but we've done it enough times to get the hang of the cleanse your hands over the incese and pray, pray with a red flower between your fingers, then a white flower, then a little blue and a little white, then a final empty-handed prayer succession. The the priest comes with rice and water. Let the water fall on you. Sip from your right palms three times. Splash it over your head. Take some wet rice for your neck, your hair, and your forehead, then wipe the rest of it off. I always feel like I'm walking out of a little hailstorm after that part. It's a good thing pakaian adat can handle getting wet.

We spent Wednesday through Saturday in Denpasar, the capital, and Sanur, a more touristy, beachside town. We had class at Udayana University and got to spend more time with the local students who came to the village with us. Denpasar is probably the most western-like city in Bali-- not in the touristy sense, but in the sense that there are shopping malls and fast food restaurants and adolescents all into their emo-pop fashion trend that do the same things for fun as any college student. It was a weird environment to be in-- too much like home to feel like I was really still in Bali, but too different from home to make me able to enjoy the "home-like" comforts it offered. We had cable tv AND a hot (though not separate from the toilet area) shower. I was beginning to think I'd come to a point where hot showers with water pressure had lost their seeming appeal and necessity, but I was quickly reminded when I got under that showerhead of how clean it's actually possible to feel. I guess I'll just forget again until I get home. We also watched enough MTV to see the same commercials about 15 times over. As enjoyable as it was, I think I decided that if I'm not going to be actively experiencing American pop-culture for one semester, I'd rather be completely cut off than watch it paraded repetitively across a screen in front of me.

I think that's all for now. Our "school" part is wrapping up next week, and then we're off on our own! It should be interesting. Some of us will be in the same place for at least some of the time so it won't be lonely-- just a big change of schedule and focus. I'll elaborate on what I'm trying to do once I figure it out more. I'm at least starting back in the little village, Munduk Pakel.

This week, I'm just concentrating on finishing my batik. Almost done...but I really wish I could just keep going..

:)